Just in case you thought I'd forgotten this blog's raison d'etre, here's some more music. The Watts Prophets. Born from the same political milieu as their contemporaries The Last Poets (though they're from the opposite coast of the US), these three guys make Public Enemy sound like The Nolan Sisters. The groups is still active, though they only cut two albums in their heyday. This is from their second, Rappin' Black In a White World. It's one of the less abrasive cuts on the album. According to the "genre" column of iTunes, this music is "Unclassifiable". Which makes it a must-listen in my book. You can see if you agree below.
This was a nice chance discovery. This dude seems to have a collection of performances filmed at Toronto's El Mocambo club, and he's put some up on YouTube, including the above footage of John Metcalfe and Vini Reilly. It's new to me, and, I suspect, most of you too. He's said he may put more Durutti Column clips up, so subscribe if you get the chance. Even more exciting (to me at least), he has five or six vids of The Golden Palominos (of whom more shortly). The one below features the aforementioned Syd Straw on vocals, and what looks like Bernie Worrell on keyboards, with Matthew Sweet (I think) on bass.
If I've not been uploading mp3s at the rate to which you've become accustomed, it's because I'm glued to the latest series of The Restaurant. The series, in case you hadn't seen/can't see it, features Harry H. Corbett (see blog posts passim) presiding over a competition in which various couples compete for the opportunity to open a restaurant of their own, bankrolled by Blanc/Corbett, who presumably is using the extra funds he'll gain as a result of the free publicity this show gives his existing restaurants. Ain't life grand? Highlight of the series so far has been a couple of clueless Jemimas in the opening episode attempting to open a tin of coconut milk with a hammer and a carving knife (they were summarily barred from the competition in the interests of their own safety). And is it just me, or is Blanc's fellow judge Sarah Willingham the filthiest looking woman on TV?
I'm not convinced, either, that Barney, of ex-Army duo Barney & Badger, isn't actually A Certain Ratio's Jeremy Kerr moonlighting. Are they by any chance related? I think we should be told (etc., etc.)
I don't know much about Jesca Hoop, save that she was once Tom Waits' babysitter, but I like what I'm hearing, especially Four Dreams, which you can hear at her MySpace page. It brings to mind a bluegrass Lene Lovich, with a dash of Syd Straw. She's apparently on her second album, which means I'm a little late to the table. One to watch.
Just managed to listen to the new Section 25 long player, and very good it is, too. However, I was a little underwhelmed by the sleeve, which doesn't really fit with the music, and would, IMHO, be better suited to something by, say, Peter Skellern. Since the group's erstwhile designer Peter Saville has mined the catalogues of the Bauhaus designers, theImpressionists, the Futurists and various Dutch typographers for inspiration in the past, did someone from S25 say "Ah, I know which artistic movement hasn't been totally reamed yet: Art Deco! Yeah, let's go with that!"
While it didn't hold any great surprises (save for the truly shocking revelation that Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti don't live in a rubber-lined dungeon as I fondly imagined-- instead their kitchen looked rather like one I was admiring in B&Q a few weeks back), the BBC's Synth Britanniaof last week was great entertainment, even if it fudged a few dates for the sake of the narrative. Andy McCluskey of OMD was particularly good value, though Richard H Kirk was dead wrong when he asserted that some people think that Cabaret Voltaire's Red Mecca, rather than Ghost Town, was the soundtrack to the Brixton and Toxteth riots. I've never met a single person that thinks this. Actually, one minor revelation, for me at least, was seeing Alison Moyet of Yazoo at the height of her (and their) success. At my school, and, I'll venture, thousands of others up and down the land, any woman slightly heavier or less attractive than, say, Clare Grogan was considered unworthy of our attentions (ah, if only they knew what they were missing, eh?). By this measure, Alison Moyet was regarded as slightly less attractive than Giant Haystacks. Yes, we really were that shallow. And sexist. And sizeist. The revelation, after twenty-five years, that she wasn't the swamp beast of popular memory, but was actually a fairly normal-looking, even attractive, woman was chastening.
The Human League, quite rightly, played a major part in the story, from Reproduction to Dare, and accordingly Phil Oakey, Martyn Ware, Joanne Catherall and Susan Sulley were wheeled on to give their ten-penn'orth. I saw Ware a couple of times this summer, first sitting on a symposium as part of the Edinburgh Science Festival (where he shared a stage with Stelarc), and second acting as MC at a Future of Sound event at the Gateshead Sage Centre. The latter was great fun and terrific value: about £8 to see The Modified Toy Orchestra, Sarah Nicolls, Threep and the Sancho Plan. As well as hosting the event, Martyn treated the audience to a gratuitous and entirely unnecessary rendition of Being Boiled, performed to a souped-up and funky backing track. He was wearing a shiny-looking double-breasted suit, a shirt and a tie, and, having recently returned from sunnier climes, had a tan that made him look as if he'd been basted in tandoori paste. My companions found the sight of him singing faintly ridiculous, and later giggled conspiritorially. "What is he like?", "What a twonk", "He can't even sing!"
Now, hang on a sec, I said. Now you've gone too far. He might look like Bob Monkhouse's son. He might be pissing all over the legacy of his former group. But to accuse him of not being able to sing? No. I'm not 'avin it (as Liam Gallagher reportedly said when he learned that Spinal Tap were a comedy turn rather than, as he'd thought, an earnest metal band). Martyn Ware wasn't just in Heaven 17 and the Human League to push buttons and play keyboards. He's also an extremely good singer, especially as a backing vocalist and harmoniser. Just ask Tina Turner, for whom Ware performed backing vocal duties on many occasions. Or the many soul artists with whom he's worked, such as Tashan, Chaka Khan and Terence Trent D'Arby. I knew this; my companions at the Sage that night were blinded (or deafened) by the suit and the tan and the general cheesiness of the version of Being Boiled that we witnessed. And yes, it was cheesy. But, dammit, the guy can sing.
If you need convincing, just listen to the League Mark One's version of You've Lost That Loving Feeling, below. Those heavenly backing harmonies are courtesy of one M. Ware. I love this take on the song, as it eschews the misplaced triumphalism of the Righteous Brothers' original, replacing the swelling strings in the chorus with a diminuendo, plaintive synth which is entirely in keeping with the song's sentiment. There's a real sense of quiet longing here, one that's entirely missing from the original. One of the commenters on YouTube says "Best cover ever?" I'd be inclined to remove the question mark.
Occupying a space somewhere between Sparks and The Smiths, this is The Wild Beasts. I love their new single All The King's Men, and its video, which to my mind is more Stornoway than Ibiza. That's no bad thing. You can judge for yourselves below.
From Shakatak to Shostakovich, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to NoMeansNo, Candi Statton to Candi Payne, Aphex Twin to the Andrews Sisters. MP3s, unsupported assertions and contentious drivel.
Please note, all music on the site is for evaluation purposes only. Play once and then delete! If you like it, go out and buy the CD or the download. Oh, and if you're the copyright holder and don't like free publicity, let me know in the comments and I'll remove it.
